His Runaway Bride

by Carolyn Faulkner

Her eyes went stark wide at that, and her mouth hung open.

  Pace was somewhat alarmed. "What? What'd I do?"

  "You apologized to me."

  "I was wrong. Of course, I apologized."

  He was utterly unprepared for the way she flung herself at him, latching onto his shoulders and pressing herself against him. And crying, he realized, when the same shoulders and parts of his neck became wet with her tears.

  "What is it, honey? Did I do something wrong?" he asked softly, huskily, worried that there was something enormous that he had missed in their relatively casual conversation.

  She shook her head, but it was pressed against him. She couldn't do anything more than that, but she continued to cling to him, almost desperately. He carefully wrapped his arms around her more tightly, rubbing her back slowly and soothingly, while she wept so softly but deeply that his chest began to ache for her.

  Then, just as suddenly, she reared back, brushing her hands over her face and apologizing to him, almost in a panic, her words running together so that they were hard to distinguish, as if she was terrified that he was going to be mad at her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cry all over you. I'm sorry."

  "Shhh, shhh, shhh. I'm fine. You're fine. You can cry on me anytime you like, sweetheart." But she wasn't responding to him—she was lost in her own fear, and he intuited that it had nothing to do with him. So, he deliberately calibrated his voice to be low and soothing. "Listen to my words, and how I'm saying them, angel. You don't have to be afraid. You've done nothing wrong." He kept repeating those phrases, adding, "Your tears don't make me feel angry at all. They make me feel honored."

  She had been stiff as a board on his lap as he held her, tenser than she had been with him before, but that had her looking up at him. "Honored?" she whispered disbelievingly.

  "Absolutely. That you trust me, especially after such a short time, to be this close to me, let me hold you—let me spank you—and to cry on me? I'm deeply, deeply honored, honey. I don't really know what happened between you and your husband, but I do know, because I've seen it, that it's very hard for you to come to trust someone—especially a man—and especially a big guy like me. And yet, here you are. Yes, honored is the right word."

  She sank into him then, as if all of her muscles had finally had enough of being held so taut all the time, and they refused to do so any longer. Pace gathered her to him with infinite tenderness, knowing she had made herself even more vulnerable to him at that moment than she had been when he was spanking her.

  Eventually, she asked, in a tear roughened voice, "You're—you're really not mad at me?"

  "No, I am not, Jayne," he stated flatly. "There's nothing for me to be angry about."

  "He would be angry," she confessed, and it was his turn to stiffen.

  "I'm sorry."

  "He never—not in all those years—ever once apologized to me for anything, either."

  Pace held her close, not saying anything, but trying to soothe her with his nearness if she could accept it, and it seemed she could.

  "And he hated it when I cried." She paused. "For any reason."

  He sighed, forcing that horrid information about how badly her husband had treated her out of his head to save his own sanity, and rubbed her back, holding her very tightly at last, not letting her see his deep frown about what she'd revealed to him.

  But it passed quickly, because of her presence—because of the sheer joy of holding her in his arms.

  For a long time—not that he noticed any of it passing—Pace just held her, not wanting to step on what he recognized as her grief. Eventually, when she stretched a bit, and yawned, he began to speak again. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through that. And I'll do anything I can to help you work your way out of it. But I want you know, with absolute certainty, that is not how I am."

  Jayne nodded slowly. "I know that, deep down, even if sometimes I couldn't remember it, or I wouldn't be here."

  Pace rubbed her arm. "I know, but I just want to say it, for the record. You can cry on me anytime you want; I'll never get angry about that. You always have a safe place in my arms. Always. If we should ever end up in a knockdown, drag out fight, you could simply walk into my arms and they'd close around you, and that would be that."

  "Thank you."

  Jayne was still curled up on his lap at this point, and he was holding her, but loosely.

  "And, if I know I've done something wrong, or someone can show me that I have, I will always apologize. Not admitting when you're wrong is a sign of weakness in anyone as far as I'm concerned."

  "That's good to know."

  "So I am sorry that you didn't get to experience one of the best parts of a spanking. It's a really important thing for me to be able to provide that for someone I've corrected. I believe there has to be a balance in these things."

  "I think that's a wonderful thing."

  His hand began to slowly travel down to her bottom, which he cupped gently after she started a bit at him touching her there. "I don't suppose your bottom is still sore, this many days later, especially when it was such a light spanking."

  "No, it's not. And that's a light spanking?" she asked in disbelief, meeting his eyes.

  Pace smiled and nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to scare you, even though I ended up doing that anyway, but yeah."

  "I beg to disagree."

  "I would love to hear you beg," he teased.

  "Yeah, no. Not going to happen. If it didn't happen with him, it's definitely not going to happen with you."

  This time, he did find her chin with his finger, tipping her eyes up to his. "I know you're going to make comparisons, but he's always going to lose. I am not him. And when I make you beg, I'll make you like doing it, too," he informed her smugly.

  She bit her tongue at that, not knowing whether she should just confess to him now that she was frigid, or if she could indulge herself with him a little longer. It did feel amazingly good to be where she was right now, knowing she was safe, and that he was interested in her and wanted to be with her. It had been so long since she'd felt anything this positive with or for a man.

  Jayne leaned away from him, and he let her. "I should get up. You probably have no circulation in your lower extremities any longer from me sitting on you."

  But Pace just gave her a big ol' grin. "Don't you believe it, darlin'."

  Her blush could have lit the night.

  "And besides, you're no bigger than a mite. If I was going to give you a rule, it would probably be that you were not allowed to skip meals."

  "Luckily," she sassed back, "you're not going to do that."

  "Don't be too sure about that, Miss Jayne."

  There was a knock on the back door again, and it was Pam, returning her son, who tried to scoot past her. She caught his arm before he could. "What do you say to Miss Pam, Braeden Otis?"

  "Fank you!"

  "You're very welcome, Braeden."

  With that, she let him go annoy Pace.

  "Oh, I wanted to mention that I gave them lunch—chicken fingers and some carrot sticks."

  "Thank you so much for doing that—and for taking him. I hope he wasn't too much of a bother!"

  "Oh no! He's so much easier than my Sarah. I'm hoping his manners will rub off on her, not that I'm holding my breath."

  They both laughed, and Jayne thanked her again before turning back to see Pace flying her son through the air.

  "Someone does not need any more stimulation when he's just about to be put down for a nap," Jayne mentioned.

  Pace immediately brought Braeden down to Earth. "Uh oh. My bad. Want me to put him down?"

  "If you'd like to," she agreed.

  Her son always went down for Pace better than anyone else, and it wasn't long before Pace was back in the kitchen, where she was foraging for lunch.

  "Why don't you sit down, and I'll make us something?"

  "You're going to cook?" She sounded amazed, and Pace gave her a fierce frown
.

  "I am. I'm not a bad cook. I'm not as good as you are—"

  "You are a smart man."

  He stopped. "I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

  "Is it really? Hmm." She was sitting at the bar while he cooked. "I've given you lots in my mind."

  Pace put the pan down, turned the stove off, and came around the end of the bar to stand in front of her.

  "You have?"

  He looked so unusually eager that she almost laughed. "Yes."

  "Such as?"

  Jayne eyed him coyly. "What if I'm hungry? If you're here, begging me for compliments, you're not making my dinner."

  His chin lowered to his chest, and he looked out at her from a drawn brow. "Don't get cheeky, Ms. Landers."

  She was flirting with him, and he was loving every second of it. But he also wanted her to tell him what she liked about him, however pathetically desperate that might be at its heart.

  "I am never cheeky, Mr. Marshall."

  Pace took a step closer to her. "And what if I decided to kiss it out of you?"

  She looked a little startled at that idea, but he didn't back down. He'd wanted to kiss her since she'd gotten here—mostly, at first, he'd wanted to kiss those horrible bruises. But now he wanted to do that and kiss her properly, too.

  He lifted her down from the bar stool, so that she was standing in front of him, and he actually had to draw a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm going to kiss you, Jayne Landers."

  She knew that he was taking his time, giving her more than ample opportunity to say no. And although she was definitely nervous, even apprehensive, she remained right where she was, her eyes locked to his. "And I'm going to let you, Pace Marshall."

  Still, when she'd given him permission to do what he wanted, he took his time and didn't rush her. He drew her to him, so that she was standing between his legs, and she put her small hands on his biceps as his palms framed her cheeks.

  When his lips met hers, she let go of her fear, because she knew, deep down, this was right. It wasn't the proper time, or probably the best place, but it was right, down to the core of it, and that made it the proper time and place.

  He was passionate and demanding, without being overwhelming or forcing her in the slightest. Instead, he coaxed and encouraged her, rewarding her responses to him—of which he hadn't expected much—with deep growls and hot, heavy breaths.

  In contrast, she was quiet, as she'd been during the spanking.

  Pace eased back a bit and kissed her forehead. "Cat got your tongue, honey?"

  "What?"

  "You're very quiet. Is there something I can do to help you enjoy it more?"

  She was flabbergasted by the question itself and, also, by his comment. "I, uh, I guess I'm not naturally very loud. Jake—"

  Pace nodded. "Well, if you're holding back because of him, you don't have to for me. It's one of the ways a man knows that he's satisfying his mate, and that's something that should be of extreme importance to every man."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  He put his finger over her lips. "No need for sorry. We're just talking and getting to know each other. No need to apologize, Jayne."

  Then he tipped her chin up, his eyes searching hers. "Again?" he asked and was rewarded by her enormous smile.

  And her eager, "Yes, please."

  Chapter 7

  Things were different from that point on, and no one could have been happier about it than Jayne. She felt as if she was walking three feet off the ground with every step she took, and it was Pace who was holding her up.

  Brownie was incredibly happy for the both of them, having found Jayne ensconced on Pace's lap when she returned that evening.

  "Oh, dear, am I interrupting something, I really, really, really hope?" she teased, throwing her purse into the other armchair and following it down.

  "We had a…discussion."

  "Silly me. I thought that was what you'd had a couple days ago."

  Jayne blushed.

  Pace frowned at his sister, whose face was still wreathed in smiles, regardless. "Well, then we reconciled."

  "And I am extremely happy to hear that. I was beginning to think that you two were never going to get together."

  "What?" the couple said in unison.

  Brownie gave a put-upon sigh. "I've been trying to get you two together forever. Since not long after I met Jayne. You seemed to like each other the couple times you'd met, and I just thought that it might work out well between you. Then Jayne went and married the bastard, and I thought that was it, even though I've been trying to help her get out of that marriage since I learned what he was like."

  Jayne stiffened at that, but Pace rubbed her back, and she relaxed again. "I'm sorry, Jayne, but my sister has no couth whatsoever."

  "That's not news to me."

  Brownie just shrugged. "And then, lo and behold, I get a call from her a couple months ago, and I thought that something might come of it, with you two under the same roof. You've been looking at her with a combination of extreme tenderness and rabid horniness since she arrived, brother. But Jayne was more affected by her—by that rat bastard—than I'd expected, and my hopes were dashed."

  She smiled broadly then. "But you worked a miracle, Pace. And I knew that if anyone could, it would be you. You're so much like Hank that I had a feeling you were just what Jayne needed, and she, you, if she could only find a way to open herself to it."

  Pace's face was bright red.

  "So, you're a romantic at heart, after all." Brownie frowned at that description of her. "And you're absolutely right, too," Jayne said, getting off Pace's lap—although he was loath to let her go. She went immediately over to the other woman and hugged her as hard as she could, saying, "Thank you for being my friend through all of this. I couldn't have done any of it without you."

  Then she looked back at Pace. "Without the both of you."

  Brownie hugged her friend back, tight, then pushed her back toward Pace. "Go back to where you belong. You don't wanna be with me." Then she rose, saying, "And, frankly, as much as I love you both, I love my fiancé even more, and I don't wanna be with you guys, either. So, I'm going to meet Hank in Florida for the weekend, leaving you two home alone, as in unchaperoned." She grinned. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, which leaves the playing field wide open, believe me."

  Within less than a half an hour, she was gone, having said her goodbyes to her brother and her best friend, after much cautioning—in excruciating detail—in regards to safe, sane, consensual sex that had the target of said warnings cringing.

  As she was walking to her car, she threw back over her shoulder, "If you need lube, there's some in the top drawer of my nightstand."

  Jayne rolled her eyes.

  "Well, I don't know about you, but I could have lived without knowing that," Pace admitted, his hand on Jayne's back as they closed the door.

  "Yeah, but I can't say I'm surprised, either."

  Pace had to snort at that. "Neither am I, although I'd just as soon forget it."

  When he'd closed the door behind them, Jayne made as if to leave. But Pace caught her, bringing her to him carefully without rushing her, in a way that let her know he was aware of just how new they were and that she still needed to be handled with kid gloves.

  She had a feeling that he would always be like that with her, though—that was just the kind of man he was. Unless she asked for something different from that, which she imagined he would be only too willing to accommodate.

  When she was leaning full length against him, his fingers laced at the small of her back, Pace looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

  Jayne answered him seriously and honestly, "Yeah, I am."

  "This is a big change, and I just wanted to make sure that you're all right with it."

  Her smile gave him the answer he wanted—and needed. "Yes. I'm very all right with it."

  "I'm giving you fair warning, I'm a physical guy. I like PDAs. I like to touch you, hol
d hands, walk arm in arm, all of that mushy stuff."

  "Who woulda thunk it," she teased. "The big, strong football player is a romantic at heart."

  He blushed but nodded his head at the same time. "You got me down pat. I learned from the master, my dad. He was always bringing Mom surprises—nothing big, but flowers or candy or just something he'd seen that he thought she'd like. He was always thinking of her, and I know that she was doing the same for him. That's the kind of relationship I'd like to have."

  Jayne met his eyes for one of the first few times voluntarily. "Me, too, but I don't even know where to start."

  Pace put his finger over her lips. "We've already made a wonderful start, I think."

  Jayne put her head on his shoulder, utterly in awe of what she had found with him. "Yes, we have."

  It was impossible not to hear the pitter-patter—or rather rhythmic stomping—of little feet coming toward them. "I know someone else who will be happy about this turn of events, too, although I want to wait just a bit to tell him if you're okay with that."

  "Of course, I am," Pace agreed. "We'll go at your pace." He leaned down to kiss her then squatted to let Braeden run—full tilt—into him, knocking him back so that the little guy was on top of his stomach. "You are going to be a linebacker, my man. You are strong! You bowled me right over!"

  The weekend was like a dream to her. They became the little family she'd fantasized about having—especially during those awful years with Jake—and then wished for when she'd moved them here and learned how wonderful Pace was.

  The question of whether he would expect to make love to her this weekend was in the back of her mind. Part of her was against it. She leaned toward being old fashioned and had never been as casual about sex as she could have been. She hadn't had that many partners, and even after she got married, Jake hadn't bothered her about it much, mostly because he found other women he liked better, but also because he found her to be a cold fish.

  And that was the real reason she was hesitant about making love with Pace. She'd never really liked sex much. She'd been attracted to men, but then, nothing seemed to happen during sex that she particularly liked, especially with her husband, unfortunately.